She's Come Undone
by Bristol Fashion
Summary: Based on a pic I saw on tumblr of Allen Leech's glorious forearms...so here is some gratuitous smut! Sybil loves Tom's forearms and Branson sexytimes ensue!


It was his forearms that undid her. It was always his forearms.

Tom Branson was a handsome man; in fact, he was a _very_ handsome man. Sybil knew this, she had know this a few months after their first meeting. She had sat in the backseat of the car while he drove, they had spoken a few words about her frock and her belief in women's rights, and she found him to be a "bright spark" as her father would say, and she enjoyed the way his face lit up when he smiled, but she must confess she did not truly notice how handsome he was until a few months later. It was before the count, but after their first few brief conversations and interactions. It hit her like a bus, and she never looked back.

There are days when she is eating her lunch in the park, or idly doing paperwork at the hospital where she allows herself to fondly remember that very first time she _really_ noticed how good-looking he was. The memory always makes her smile. And blush.

He had just pulled up the motor to the front of the house where she was waiting with her Granny. It was a hot day, the kind of day where even a brief walk could wear you out. The kind of day where every ounce of clothing felt oppressive, every tilt of the head or swing of the arms felt like too much. All one wanted to do was sit beneath the shade of a tree, or sink into the cool water of a lake, but Granny had other plans for Sybil that day.

"Sybil dear, how you think it is acceptable for you to avoid another tea with Lady Devere is beyond me! Now I know she is a vile woman, really I do, but she is important to this family and if I must face her and her incorrigible niece then you must too!"

Sybil simply rolled her eyes and admitted defeat. She had been avoiding paying calls all month, really. It was too hot, the visits too boring, and her mind was elsewhere. Was this really all there was? Oh, and Lady Devere and her niece. Of all the people Sybil wanted to avoid, Lady Devere and her niece, Clara, were number one on the list. Clara was only a few years older than Sybil and wanted only to discuss the latest gossip and especially to discuss the latest potential beau that had come calling. Sybil found her impossibly selfish and driven only by the idea that she marry rich and really, it was too hot for this. Clara was awful to be around on a cool, clear day, nevermind on a sticky hot day where the the air alone would stifle everyone in their sitting room.

But Sybil knew when she had been beaten, and she was no match for the Dowager, not today anyway. So there they were, about to make the few steps towards the motor, when Branson hopped out and ran in front of them.

"Please forgive me, Lady Grantham, Lady Sybil, but the motor made a noise I didn't like and I'd like to quickly check it, if you don't mind?" His head was bowed and it was obvious he was a little nervous to make such a request, as none of the servants ever wanted to keep the Dowager waiting, but to his surprise the Dowager only nodded her head and said, "Of course, I'll admit I am in no hurry to get to my destination, although I would like to get there alive! Take your time, Branson."

With that she went back inside as Mr. Carson escorted her, giving orders to Sybil to fetch her when Branson was done, leaving Sybil alone outside with Branson as he fiddled with the car.

"You must be terribly warm, Branson. I cannot imagine wearing a jacket that heavy in this heat!"

"It's fine, milady" he said, although it was clear from the tone of his voice that it was anything but fine, particularly as Sybil noticed that sweat was already forming on his temples and hairline. It was making Sybil feel faint just looking at how uncomfortable he looked, and she felt her own cheeks flush at the mere thought of putting a heavy jacket on top of her already too-heavy dress.

"Oh, Branson, just take off the jacket. Honestly, no one is around and I don't mind. I don't want you to faint! Who will fix the car if you do?" she laughed, trying to show him that she really didn't mind, plus she hated giving orders to the servants so she always tried to make a joke out of her position of power over them.

"Well we can't have that, can we? I wouldn't want to leave you with an unconscious chauffeur and a broken car!" he replied with a grin, quickly taking off his jacket and then going a step further and rolling up his sleeves to his elbows. As he did so he kept his eyes locked on hers, and Sybil noticed then just how blue his eyes were. Had they always been that blue? Surely they could not have always been that blue...she would have noticed, wouldn't she? _My God, they are gorgeous_ she thought to herself, never moving her gaze, and only breaking when she realized her cheeks were red not from the heat, but from _him_.

She had to look somewhere else. His eyes were too blue and his gaze had been too intense and now he was half-dressed and, did it get even hotter outside?! Sybil turned and paced back and forth for a minute, holding her gloves in her hand and pretending to fan herself with them because of the heat, of course, not because of anything else, and just in general trying to look like an impatient aristocrat and not a girl who desperately wanted to look back at the chauffeur to see what he was doing now and were there other things about him she hadn't noticed until now...

And then, she noticed.

When she brought herself to look at him again she saw he was knelt down near one of the tires, his hands turning something about, and his forearms...they were exposed. There were muscles moving beneath his skin, there were fine lines and angles and _strength_. With each turn of his hands, the muscles in his forearms seemed to dance and jump, and every muscle in his bicep seemed to become taut and press against the fabric of his shirt and why was this little exposure making her stare the way it was?

They just looked so..._manly_, like he could lift the motor up with ease if he wanted to. Like he could hold anything, handle anything...or anyone. When Sybil noticed gentleman at a ball, she took note of their strong jawline or if they had kind eyes, but this...this was something else entirely. This was strength and rawness and all Sybil could do was think about touching his arms. Running her hands along the muscles, feeling them contract under her touch. She wanted to feel those arms around her, not like the way she danced with a man at a ball, not light touches, but she wanted those arms, _his_ arms and those hands, _his_ hands, gripping her, pulling her close. She wanted to feel the power in them, feel like they could hold her up and lift her away from everything.

She was done for.

After he had fixed the motor and helped the Dowager into the car, and God knows how long it had been, Sybil had certainly lost all track of time, and after they were on their way, she looked at him as best she could. _Really_ looked at him. Blue eyes as clear as the a cloudless Spring sky, well, those had now been noted. Hair styled so perfectly, so neatly, falling into place and _my it looks soft towards the back of his neck_. His lips were naturally pink and full, not perhaps plump like hers, but definitely not thin...they looked, well, _they look kissable_ she thought. The way they parted slightly as he drove, a stray whistle escaping from them, only to close again quickly when he remembered himself, then forming into a perfect smirk...oh it was too much. She knew he had words forming behind them, words he wished he could let out, and would if not in present company, and she more than ever wanted to hear them...and in that voice! Oh why had she never thought about his voice until now?! His words fell out of those lips like music, the lilt caressing her ears like the the finest symphony. That Irish brogue that was somehow rough and tender at the same time! Then there were the slight freckles that peppered his skin. Were they all over his body? This thought only lasted a second, because as it entered her head she immediately felt as though she would break into a fit of giggles if she kept thinking in that direction. HIS BODY! He was tall, not too tall, but just right. He was broad where he should be and narrow where he should be. She had seen his forearms now...she knew he must have muscles in other places she didn't even know a person could have muscles! _Does his entire body move and flex the way his forearms did? Does the pale skin pull taut over those muscles too? What would it look like when he is doing other things...swimming...riding a bicycle...dancing, kissing..._

"SYBIL!"

"Yes..yes, Granny?" she stammered. Had Granny been talking to her? How long had she been staring aimlessly at the back of Branson's neck...his neck also looked inviting...how was that even possible?

"My goodness dear, it's as if your brain has fallen out of the motor window even though your body is still here!"

Sybil smiles at this memory now, as hindsight now tells her she loved him even then. Well, perhaps it wasn't love yet, but it was something. It was enough to get her to start noticing all the little things that he was made up of, and it was enough to break the dam and let the water rush in to her subconscious. It was the moment that changed everything, and as odd as it sounds, his forearms were the part of him that changed everything for Sybil.

Now here it is, several years later and a several years into their marriage, and Sybil finds herself reliving this memory on her walk home from work. As she passes the Dublin shops and peoples that have become her home she quickens her pace, the memory is having its old familiar effect that it always does.

She needs him. Now.

"I'm in here, love!" he calls out after Sybil steps into the flat and calls after him.

The sight she is met with is almost too delicious to bear. Is he really under the sink in the kitchen, fiddling around with a pipe, wearing only an undershirt and trousers?

Sybil leans against the doorframe and decides she is not going to rush this as she thought she would on her walk home. Her intentions had been to pounce on him as soon as she entered their flat, but this...this was too good to be true. Perhaps a fantasy could be indulged a little longer?

"And what are you working on, Mr. Branson?" she practically whispered, eyes never leaving those forearms of his, as he twisted and worked with some tool she did not know the name of.

"Leaky pipe again, I'm just tightening this up, won't be much longer. I was going to start dinner but I noticed this and couldn't let it go...we're gonna have to replace this pipe eventually, I can't just keep fixing it over and over; it's only a temporary solution. Bloody pipes in this place are a mess."

"Hmm, well if anyone can fix it though, you can. You're so good with your hands. And you can work wonders with a pipe."

"Well, I wouldn't say that...I'm not a plumber by trade, but all those years tinkering with an engine made me be able to get by I guess. I sometimes feel like I lost my skills though now that I'm a journalist."

"You're not giving yourself enough credit, darling. I know for a fact you still know your way around a tool...and if you don't have a tool you use your hands to get the job done."

He made a noise underneath the sink and continued working. Sybil realized he could not fully grasp what was happening since he could not see the lust in her eyes. She tried a different tact.

"I've just always been very impressed with your handiwork, and perhaps after you're finished you can work on me with _your tool_?" her raspy voice punctuated the last two words. She waited. It would not take him long to catch on now, cheeky man that he was. She counted in her head...one...two...

The tool he was holding dropped, a colorful Irish word escaped his lips and he sat upright, eyes meeting hers for the first time since she walked in.

She was twirling a finger in her hair, head tilted to one side, seductively biting her lip.

"To hell with this bloody leaky pipe then!"

He was in front of her within seconds, lips pressing against hers with force. Immediately she let out a low moan as he kissed her, her hands pulling at the hairs on the back of his neck. He lifted her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist as his mouth moved to her neck. Tom was pressing her back against the wall, his entire body pressed firmly into hers, all the while placing kisses against her neck and collarbone.

He dropped one hand to her thigh, lifting her skirt up and moving his hand up higher and higher while Sybil arched her back and rocked against him.

"Ohh Tom, God I want you so badly" Sybil practically growled as his fingers teased the edges of her knickers.

He stopped then and moved his hand back to her arse, gripping her tightly as he lowered them both to the kitchen floor.

Tom hovered above her and went back to pushing up her skirt and running his hands over her inner thighs, until he pulled her knickers down and pulled them off completely. Sybil put her head back against the kitchen floor and closed her eyes, not wanting to know where he would go next.

She felt his mouth on her and moaned loudly, calling out his name. He had his hands cupping her arse, pulling her as close to his mouth as possible, while he hummed and moaned softly as he licked and kissed her.

"Oh God Tom, mmm Tom please...more Tom!"

Tom just gripped tighter and lifted her arse slightly off the floor as she arched her back to press herself into him further. She closed her eyes and felt herself getting closer and closer, knowing it would take mere seconds before she reached ecstasy, and he wasn't letting up until she did.

He then took his hands out from under her and reached up underneath her dress to place his hands on her stomach, leaving her skin burning with sensation. She began to whimper in pleasure as her orgasm overtook her, her breath coming in spurts and her heart beating wildly.

She opened her eyes to find him kneeling in front of her, the hardness in his trousers quite evident.

"I think it's time you got out your tool, Mr. Branson"

He did not need to be asked twice. Sybil sat up a little to watch his hands and arms move to undo his trousers and pull out his cock. He slowly stroked himself a few times, looking directly at her, while she bit her lip and felt herself tighten again, ready for him to fill her completely. His forearms flexed in that delicious way as his hands glided over his length, and Sybil felt like she could watch him all day, but she also knew she needed him inside her immediately.

With his trousers completely discarded and his undershirt finally torn off, Sybil sat up and pulled her dress over her head, and quickly unhooked her undergarment while Tom continued to stroke himself as his eyes roamed her entire body.

Tom was impossibly hard now, and he was aching to enter her to feel her warmth all around him. She moved so seductively and made little noises all the while that made him feel like he would lose it at any second.

She loved watching him like this. She loved knowing he got that hard for her and her alone, and she thought of all the times she'd wondered if he touched himself and thought of her when he was alone in the chauffeur's cottage, the way she thought of him when she was alone. She loved watching his hands and arms move, and the way his body reacted to the sight of her. He was the most beautiful man she'd ever seen, and she needed him now like she had needed him since the moment she noticed his muscled forearms fixing the motor.

Sybil finally laid back completely and opened her legs wide so he could enter her. He laid down on top of her and kissed her while he guided himself into her with ease. Her entire body clenched with pleasure when he was deep inside her like this, and they began rocking together in rhythm, the familiar push and pull of their bodies joined together. With each thrust he let out a low grunt that drove Sybil crazy, her matching each noise he made with one of her own, his name escaping her lips often.

"Tom,Tom, yes, yes you feel so good Tom"

Tom continued to thrust into her, slowly but deep, so deep. Each moan of his name caused him to move faster, and she dug her nails into his back, getting closer to the peak again.

"Oh Tom, please, please" she whimpered, wanting him to push into her harder and faster because she was so close.

With a few more thrusts she found herself screaming his name loud and clear, feeling her body clench around him and contract over and over, seeing stars and feeling like she was floating.

He came a few seconds later, moaning her name low into her ear, his body shuddering over hers.

She pulled him to her even closer then, his head resting on her shoulder, buried under her hair, her fingertips gently running up and down his back, both of them breathing heavy with hearts thumping in their chests.

"Jesus, Sybil. I did not expect that one minute I'd be fixing the pipe and the next minute I'd be doing _that_" he said with a laugh, kissing her collarbone gently before easing out of her and rolling over next to her on the floor.

"Mmmm...well I can't lie and say I wasn't thinking about it all day." she purred running her hands over his chest and turning on her side to face him.

Tom held up one arm and suddenly glanced at his watch in alarm, "Sybil, what time is Mrs. Keegan bringing Saoirse back?"

"7:00 darling, don't worry. She promised Saoirse she could help her make cookies tonight."

"Oh, good. She won't be home for an hour then."

Sybil watched as he looked at the watch around his wrist, his forearm moving as he unclasped his watch to set it aside.

_My God his arms are strong and perfect_, she thought as she had to struggle to control her grin. _And so is everything attached to them too_.

"An hour is quite a bit of time, don't you think? I think if we try hard enough we could fix lots of things in the apartment in an hour."

He raised an eyebrow and smirked at her in that way that made her wild with desire.

"Fix the apartment, huh? I think my wife needs fixing first though, doesn't she?"

It was always his forearms that undid her.


End file.
